Maybe its because they have never seen a blood pressure being taken. Maybe its becuse I´m blond, a site about as rare as a solar eclipse. But for whatever reason, as I move from person to person in the crowded clinic, blood pressure taking is a spectacle. The patients are all seated on benches, and i kneel down by each one and set up my stethascope and pressure cuff. As I do, the four patients on the sides of my patient lean in close to see the pressure guage. Children gather around behind me to play with my hair, and stare wide eyed at the pressure cuff. At any given time, there are no less than nine people watching. As the needle goes down, the crowd shouts out numbers, numbers they think correspond to my patients pressure. The noise resembles the New York stock exchange: but entirely in spanish.
If that doesn´t make it hard enough to hear, often the mothers have babies and small children in their laps. The babies like to play with the cords. Sometimes they are creative enough to play with the cords methodicaly, giving me an artificial heartbeat. I check a young mother. One-ninety over twenty? Nope, just junior using my stethascope as a guitar string. I thwart the future musician with my elbow and try again. Success.
Most of the patients are sweet older ladies. They call me doctor. This, I have no problem with. I have earned this title because I am a male, and have a stethascope around my neck. I do my best to look like a doctor. I carry multiple pins in my scrubs shirt pocket and write the blood pressures on their cards as sloppy as i can.
I move on to the next patient. She is a lady of about sixty, and has the nicest smile. I check her left arm. One-forty over one-thirty. Something is worng. I check the other arm. Same result. I frown and look up at her. Its her shirt sleeves; they are entirely too tight. I tell her this, and begin to roll them down, when she suggests that it might be best for her to take her shirt off entirely. I stare at her blankly. There are seventy people in the clinic, and there are at least nine spectators leaning in. Before I have time to say anything, the blood pressure crowd agrees that taking the shirt off would be the best thing to do. The shirt is coming off, no matter what the doctor says. Off it goes. I take the blood pressure as quickly as possible, and pray that I can get it in one try. Success.
I move on. I call out number fifty seven. A mother in her 30´s raises her hand across the clinic room. At the moment, she is breast feeding. In Peru, breastfeeding in public is a common site. I am beggining to become accustomed to this. As I walk toward the mother she continues to breast feed. Surely she will cut lunch short for junior. She doesn´t. In fact, the entire time I take the pressure, she continues feeding her child. I glance around. To everyone else in the room, this is normal. Its me, the only American in the waiting room that feels uncomfortable. And then it hits me. Its the me, the blond "doctor", that needs to become apart of Peruvian culture. Its me that needs to be okay with this standard of decency. Its me that needs to change. Not them. The Peruvian people are open and kind. In order to serve most effectively, I must reach a level of openness too. I must be okay with this. My goal is for Peruvian normal my normal too. I finish with the patient, and realize that this goal is a little closer. And if nothing else, at least mom´s feeding kept junior from playing with the cords. I smile and call out the next patient. Another wild day at the clinic. I wouldn´t have it any other way.
If that doesn´t make it hard enough to hear, often the mothers have babies and small children in their laps. The babies like to play with the cords. Sometimes they are creative enough to play with the cords methodicaly, giving me an artificial heartbeat. I check a young mother. One-ninety over twenty? Nope, just junior using my stethascope as a guitar string. I thwart the future musician with my elbow and try again. Success.
Most of the patients are sweet older ladies. They call me doctor. This, I have no problem with. I have earned this title because I am a male, and have a stethascope around my neck. I do my best to look like a doctor. I carry multiple pins in my scrubs shirt pocket and write the blood pressures on their cards as sloppy as i can.
I move on to the next patient. She is a lady of about sixty, and has the nicest smile. I check her left arm. One-forty over one-thirty. Something is worng. I check the other arm. Same result. I frown and look up at her. Its her shirt sleeves; they are entirely too tight. I tell her this, and begin to roll them down, when she suggests that it might be best for her to take her shirt off entirely. I stare at her blankly. There are seventy people in the clinic, and there are at least nine spectators leaning in. Before I have time to say anything, the blood pressure crowd agrees that taking the shirt off would be the best thing to do. The shirt is coming off, no matter what the doctor says. Off it goes. I take the blood pressure as quickly as possible, and pray that I can get it in one try. Success.
I move on. I call out number fifty seven. A mother in her 30´s raises her hand across the clinic room. At the moment, she is breast feeding. In Peru, breastfeeding in public is a common site. I am beggining to become accustomed to this. As I walk toward the mother she continues to breast feed. Surely she will cut lunch short for junior. She doesn´t. In fact, the entire time I take the pressure, she continues feeding her child. I glance around. To everyone else in the room, this is normal. Its me, the only American in the waiting room that feels uncomfortable. And then it hits me. Its the me, the blond "doctor", that needs to become apart of Peruvian culture. Its me that needs to be okay with this standard of decency. Its me that needs to change. Not them. The Peruvian people are open and kind. In order to serve most effectively, I must reach a level of openness too. I must be okay with this. My goal is for Peruvian normal my normal too. I finish with the patient, and realize that this goal is a little closer. And if nothing else, at least mom´s feeding kept junior from playing with the cords. I smile and call out the next patient. Another wild day at the clinic. I wouldn´t have it any other way.
